Regret
by 13LadyJiyu
Summary: Arthur says he hates Francis. So then why is there is knot in his stomach? YAOI FrUK; Rated T for swearing.


**Warning:** really corny/cheesy/fluffy and some swearing

I apologize in advance when Scotland is speaking, I don't really know how to type accents.

And lastly, I hope you enjoy. My first story in while, so I hope you don't find it terrible.

England X France

Regret

"_I hate you, Bonnefoy! I always have! And I always will!"_

Sunshine blinded the lively forest green eyes of Arthur Kirkland as he was abruptly woken up from his less than pleasant slumber. As he began blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, those last words of his dream relentlessly echoed in his mind. What was most bothersome was that it hadn't been a dream. It was a memory.

Years ago, Arthur and Francis were great friends with the latter like a big brother to look after the smaller one. Until one day when the two got into a huge argument, declaring each other rivals. Throughout the years, they bickered and got on each other's nerves to no end, but nothing was too serious. But a week ago, Arthur had completely snapped at Francis, shouting his spiteful words at the Frenchman. The two hadn't laid eyes on each other since.

"Stupid frog…get the hell out of my damn head…" Arthur grumbled as he glared at his reflection. For some reason, he couldn't get the image of the blonde's hurt crystal blue eyes out of his head. "Damn bloody wanker. I just said the truth. I really do hate that cheesy monkey. He's annoying, perverted, and completely twisted. So then why…do I feel something knotting inside me…?"

Just outside his door, the second oldest brother of the Kirkland family stood blankly after hearing his little brother's rant. Dylan made his way down to the kitchen where three other members sat at the small round table. There was the eldest, Alistair, smoking a cigar while reading the paper. Then there was Cailean, who was mindlessly listening to the youngest, Peter. A typical Kirkland morning.

As Dylan got his tea, he announced, "It appears Arthur is having trouble."

The other Kirklands peered up at the Welsh man as he sat. Alistair gave a big sigh before setting his paper down. "What was he ranting about this time?"

"About his snapping at Francis. Supposedly, he feels guilty about the incident."

"Guilty? Why would he? Doesn't he actually hate the Frenchy?" Cailean puzzled as he furrowed his thick eyebrows, the prominent family trait. Dylan nodded. "That's the very problem that stands. I think Arthur doesn't know his true feelings about Francis."

"Are you suggesting we help him out? Because count me out!" Peter declared before taking his bag and heading off for the bus. Cailean shrugged as he gathered his own bag since he was only seventeen. "Well, if Arthur needs to sort out his feelings, maybe he needs to be pushed into talking to Francis."

While the young North Irish man departed, Alistair smiled wickedly. "I deem that worthy of trying."

"But how will we execute it? He's about to go to his classes at the Hetalia University."

Alistair barely got to open his mouth when the front burst open to an enthusiastic American boy named Alfred F. Jones. "Yo, morning British dudes! Arthur ready yet?"

"Uh, mornin' Alfred. Ye too, Matthew," the interrupted brother greeted before smirking. "Oi, ye two know how Arthur snapped at Francis a week ago?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I need ye to do somethin' for me. Somehow, push Arthur onto Francis, or the other way around. Just get them together."

"Why?"

"Because we suspect Arthur is guilty about the incident while he claims he does hate Francis," Dylan explained, retelling the tale of over hearing his little brother.

Matthew nodded. "We'll do what we can…"

Alfred did a thumb up. "You can so totally count on us, dudes!"

"Count on you for what?"

All eyes turned to the Englishman enter the kitchen, his face full of suspicion. Alfred laughed, "Nothing! Come on, let's get going."

"Alright…"

"See you guys later," Matthew politely departed the two brothers before following his classmates. Dylan looked to Alistair. "I don't know what you're planning, but it better be worth Alfred's screw up."

"Oh, it will be."

~_Sometime after the school day_

"Fuck! Alfred, did you know that bloody wanker was going to be here?" Arthur hissed through gritted teeth as none other than Francis walked into the café, Antonio and Gilbert leading him. Alfred and Matthew shook their heads as the Englishman sunk further into his seat. There it was again…that twisting, knotting feeling that got tighter seeing the normal flamboyant Frenchman so stoic…

"Damn it… I'm getting out of here while I can…"

Arthur hastily escaped his seat, but unfortunately crashed into a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks, causing the ungraceful Englishman to slip and grabbing onto the object closest to him, bringing it down with him. Only when he opened his eyes did he see exactly what his hands had caught.

Francis.

And their noses were only a couple centimeters away from each other.

And then…it was like everything melted away. The shop, the people, the feud… There were only green and blue orbs staring into each other and an urge—a need—to brush lips.

Arthur finally snapped back and shoved the hovering Francis off of him before fleeing the café as fast as he could run. Anywhere was better than there.

It was hours later when Arthur finally stopped running away. The moon was surely up by now, but the stormy clouds blocked the luminous sky. Rain showered unceasingly, adding to Arthur's bitter mood. He leaned on the edge of a bridge with the river surging below, catching his breath while doing so. "Damn it…why did it have to be him of all people? Stupid frog…"

"I think ye be the stupid one," an all too familiar voice rumbled amusingly. Arthur turned his glare upon his older brother that crossed his arms and leaned his back against the rail. "I'm not the bloody mood, Alistair. Taunt me later."

The Scots man hooted with amusement but calmed himself as he smiled at the little brother. "I'm not here to taunt ya, even though that'd be amusing for meself. I'm here to be the big brother that gives you advice."

"Oh? And what advice shall you be gracing me with?"

"Love is a fickle mistress. You have to accept the good and the bad of it. So…go talk to that Frenchman there before I kick yer ass."

Arthur whipped his head up to look down the bridge, where a figure with short blonde hair stood in the streetlight, rain showering hard. Arthur narrowed his eyes at Alistair. "I thought you hated Francis."

"Who said that? While I might not like the lad a lot, I'll tolerate him…just like ye. Now go. Or I'll keep the door locked."

Arthur stood there looking at the figure waiting for him, nervous clogging his throat. He felt a push on his ass from none other than the Scottish brother, who smirked before nodding and heading off in the direction of home, which is where Arthur rather be heading.

Arthur took a deep breath then walked up to the lone figure that held some of his blonde locks back from his face. Arthur gazed at that face, realizing it really was gorgeous. It was the face you could only find on cherished paintings. His locks also made a golden halo around that pretty face. Although, it was the eyes stood out the most…like blue topazes. To think he made them fill with hurt made his stomach twist again…with guilt.

_Yes, that's it._ Arthur thought. _Yes, I feel guilty about hurting Francis…which means…_

Arthur finally swallowed his pride, turning his eyes downcast, his cheeks burning. "Francis Bonnefoy… You're aggravating, pompous, arrogant, perverted, a downright git sometimes—"

France grimaced. "Is this going anywhere? I don't need to hear more harsh words from _you_."

"Don't interrupt and I will get somewhere, frog! As I was saying, you're a pain…but…but I can't see life without you." Francis's eyes widen like saucers. "You bring excitement to my dull life. You mange to fire me up when I'm composed. And I can't help but love every bit of it. So…what I'm basically trying to say…is that…I…I love you. I…always have, and…I think I always will."

For the longest of time, there was only empty silence, save for the showering of rain that was slowly letting up.

Arthur finally had enough. "Say something! If you want to laugh at my face for confessing, then go ah—"

But he never finished his sentence due to the lips that had latched onto his. Francis wrapped one arm around his waist while his other rested behind Arthur's neck. Arthur, meanwhile, was shocked and unresponsive at first but soon melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Francis's neck and opening his mouth a little. The opening was enough for the Frenchman to slip his tongue into the smaller male's mouth, beginning a fight for dominance. Francis won, of course, with his experience, though no kiss could compare to the one right now.

Due a lack of oxygen, the two parted to gulp in the sweet air between them. Francis cupped the blushing face of Arthur, resting his forehead on the other's. "You're such a silly Brit, Arthur. Je t'aime."

Arthur's blush deepened—if that was possible—and he averted his eyes away from Francis. "Francis…I'm really sorry about what I said. I just…lost my temper…"

"Oui, I understand. I've learned from Antonio and Lovino—also Gilbert and Roderich—that no matter how it may seem the one you love hates you, you should just love them, keeping faith that they'll come back."

"Cheesy monkey."

"You know you love it." Francis nuzzled his face in Arthur's neck, to which the latter responded by just tightening his hold of the slightly taller male. Francis smiled, kissing Arthur's neck. "You know what would really make me forgive you?"

Arthur shoved Francis off only enough to glare at him, though the latter just smirked. "Pervert."

"Like you have room to speak. When you're drunk, you…"

"Sh-shut up!"

"Make me, mon cher."

Arthur blushed harder before crashing his lips to Francis's, and soon after, he nibbled on Francis's lip. Once granted entrance, he fought the once dominant male in the war of tongues. It was perfect for the new couple. As the two walked away, hand in hand, Arthur's brothers and Francis's best friends smirked.

"Finally."


End file.
